


when we draw back the morning curtains, will it snow?

by actualbluesargent



Series: be by my side [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, literally that's all this is thank you good night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 16:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12964098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualbluesargent/pseuds/actualbluesargent
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke are married, and dream of snow.





	when we draw back the morning curtains, will it snow?

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a prequel to this at some point? I just really wanted to write it. 
> 
> based on the lyrics of 'snow' by zion. t, which the title comes from.

Bellamy knows that he is supposed to love his wife. People marry people because they love them. He is nothing special for loving Clarke, because of course he loves her. He married her, after all.

He loved her the day he met her, an intern trying desperately not to cry in the corridor of the hospital, unjaded by the harshness of the world she was in. He loved her on their wedding day, when she wore a white dress that Raven helped her pick out, with all their friends and family in one place. He loved her when she gave birth to their son, even when she was red in the face and screaming in pain. 

But on days when she comes home, eyes tired and body weary from a day on the wards, hair unkempt and she’s so exhausted she just collapses on the couch beside him, he’s nearly bowled over by how much he loves her. He asked her out because he always wanted to be around her, and he proposed to her because he wanted to be there for her even on her bad days. And now that he  _ gets that _ , he’s forever appreciated. When she married him, she promised she’d always be at his side, and he still feels like he’s won a prize, ten years later. 

They’re in bed, and she’s curled up against him. The only light is the one from the streetlight outside, bleeding through their curtains. They’re not sleeping yet, her arm is wrapped around his waist and her head on his chest. He loves her with this constant warmness he is still astounded by. The most brilliant woman in the world, and she loves him as much as he loves her. 

“I don’t want to go to work tomorrow,” she mutters, eyes closed.

“Maybe it’ll snow, and we won’t be able to drive anywhere,” he says softly, gently carding his fingers through her hair. “I can make you some coffee, and you can actually sit down and enjoy it.”

She huffs out a small laugh at that. “Maybe we can just stay in bed. We can sleep and read all day.”

He smiles, and pulls her closer. “Close your eyes and make a wish,” he says.

Her eyes are closed, but he knows she’d be rolling her eyes otherwise. “Don’t be dumb, Bellamy. Wishing would jinx it,”

He knows he married her for a reason.

They drift off to sleep like that, and Bellamy dreams of snow falling in front of his eyes, and a day spent in the warmth of his home.

He’s woken abruptly not by his alarm clock, like usual, but by his son jumping onto their bed. A small knee is in his gut and fingers in his mouth before he wakes up enough to properly register them.

“Mom! Dad! It’s snowing!” Isaac says, with the excited fervour only a five year old could possess. 

“What?” Clarke asks, pulling herself to sit upright. Isaac has already leapt from their bed and started tugging at the curtains in a way that makes Bellamy more than a little concerned. Sure enough, outside their window, the entire landscape is coated with a white blanket, with fluffy white snowflakes floating down. 

Bellamy stands up and joins his son at the window. Isaac’s face is pressed up against the glass, like the closer his face gets the better he’ll be able to see. 

“Look, Clarke,” Bellamy says, disbelief and awe colouring his voice. “Just like we said.”

She gets up and joins them, her arm slipping around his waist. Her expression is the same reverent awe as her son, and just like always, Bellamy feels his love for her in extreme amounts.

She leans against him. “So, you’ll put on the pot of coffee?”

He smiles, and kisses her hair. “I promised, didn’t I?”


End file.
